𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍
— 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹𝒷𝓎𝑒 —

  𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 doesn't realize it, his trembling hands waver on her delicate skin, barely touching the surface as if he may break her. Paul Lahote can not remember the last time he cried — but now, seeing his soulmate nearly lifeless on a sterile bed with an icy touch and pale skin, he allows the threatening tears to fall freely. The droplets disappear on the linoleum floor as if they never existed in the first place, much like Serenity Reagan's memories after a fiery-haired vampire made an appearance at her home. What was a safe haven only days ago is now a pit of hell in the eyes of her cousin, Laythe Reagan: he hasn't visited his own childhood sanctuary since he found his mother's mangled, but still breathing, body lying inside like a discarded doll. He had sunken to his knees, clutching her in his grasp and lost in begging to whatever higher power there was — please don't take her too, he cried. And though he truly didn't believe that there was a being in the sky, granting wishes and pitying those below, he was never before as thankful as the moment in which Marina Reagan's skin slowly began to repair itself. Gashes faded to nothing, blood dried on her limbs and she was still alive.

But Serenity was not as lucky — the damage done unto her could not be so easily reversed. In fact, the medical practitioner that had been so closely evaluating the blonde just stepped from the brightly lit room, relaying to the Reagan family that there is nothing more that he can do. Although Serenity had opened her eyes for a few vague moments upon arriving at the hospital to find a clinical interrogation, her answers proved that she could not remember what happened to her, or remember anything anything at all.

"It's unclear if her memory loss is amnesia or the advances of Niemann-Pick," the young doctor had spoken so gently to them. "Regardless, she will need to be supervised for tonight. Though her brain and body shows no sign of internal damage, it's better to be safe than sorry. I will keep you updated in the morning, but for now, there is nothing more that we can do." He was remorseful as he turned to the door, witnessing the faces of despair that grasped onto his every word like a lifeline. But before he could outrun those burning stares, Paul Lahote had slid from his chair.

"Give it to me straight, no bullshit," Paul had swallowed, his throat closing in with the passing seconds as he stared at the doctor, "will she make it?" No amount of powdered sugar and artificial sprinkles would soothe his shredded heart . . . the least he, and Serenity's family, deserved was the truth.

The man had turned to face them, a smile on his lips that didn't quite reach his eyes, "I believe she will. She thankfully avoided hypothermia, so her injuries aren't as life-altering as the harm that's been done to her memory." He pauses for a moment, before beginning again, "Prepare yourselves, because there is a possibility that she will never remember the life that came before this. I'm truly sorry for what your family has undergone today, and I sincerely hope, for the sake of all of you, that her memory loss is not permanent."

Paul looks to his imprint now, studying her broken features. Though it had only been hours since he and Laythe had found her lying in the thick snow, her cheeks were sunken in as though she had not eaten in weeks. Her skin is ghostly pale, a result from her borderline hypothermia, and her lips are cracked from the weather that ate away at her features while she lie abandoned in the woodland. Her fingertips, though tucked underneath layers of blankets, never seem to warm within Paul's heated touch. The only sign of life within her is the steady rise and fall of her chest: shallow movements, but still they remain. The russet-skinned boy searches for a word to describe her silhouette, and only retrieves one. He clenches his jaw and his muscles tighten, but he is careful not to apply pressure to her fingers that are laced so softly within his.

Dead, he thinks to himself. She looks dead.

Her neck is tainted by handprints of purple and blue, and a long gash runs from her eyebrow to jawline on the right side of her face. Speckles of blood seep through the gauze that cover it, reminding Paul that a scar will replace the wound once it heals.

A burglary, Marina had told the clinician when questions arose of how, exactly, such a brute force had been applied to the small girl. Because there was no hospital on the Reservation, they had to resort to the hospital of Forks, where the woman had to build a believable story for those who were oblivious to the supernatural occurrences around them. And again, the Reagan woman had repeated that very story to Chief Swan, who arrived to file an official police report and assure the family that justice would be served once they discovered the culprit. But Marina had noticed the surprise in his eyes when she created a false scenario — Forks is a small town, in which everyone knows everyone and crime is hardly ever a problem. In recent months, however, more pressing matters had arisen: his close friend, Waylon, had been killed, animal attacks had become more frequent ('wolves' Bella had claimed as she returned from a walk in the woods), and a local teen, Riley Biers, had gone missing.

"The robber broke down the door," Marina had told Charlie, her eyes brimming with tears as the memories grasped her with cold, firm hands. "Whoever it was, they were strong. I told her to run, but . . . I was knocked out before I could do much damage. And I can't help but feel the guilt, it's eating me alive—"

Chief Swan didn't encourage her to continue as he simply reached out to the unfamiliar woman, and pulled her into an embrace. The closeness, however, was anything but awkward: had Charlie been in that situation, he would need a hug too. The crime scene fit the story that Marina later finished, due to the dedication of Sam Uley and the anxious pack of werewolves that needed a distraction. Any blood upon the floors had been washed away, erasing what happened there — but never would it eliminate the memories. Though Paul and Laythe were the only ones to break away during the battle against a newborn army created by a notorious fiery-haired vampire, those visuals were seared into the link with the potential to last a lifetime: Marina impaled on the parlor floor, and Serenity broken in a bed of snow.

For a moment, she looked as though she were only sleeping. It was as if, after so much fighting, after the abundance of misfortunes that haunted her life, the petite girl had given up. And then, prey to the snowflakes that swarmed the breeze, she laid, and accepted the peace. She invited the kind slumber, relaxing into the earth, and she dreamed until she couldn't dream anymore, and then . . . then she slept.

But she hadn't.

And Paul wishes so deeply that he, instead of Edward Cullen, could have burned the body of the woman who dared to touch the person he loved most in the world. The anger peeled at his skin, simmering in his blood and boiling his insides until it hurt — but the chill of her skin is more than enough to keep him composed.

The winding minutes, spinning in the air and seeping into the lungs of Paul Lahote, are suffocating. His girlfriend had a brush with death, and her aunt had done the same . . . but so had Jacob Black. Though the boy had not been on the field to watch as Jacob's bones had been shattered in an attempt to save Leah Clearwater, he experienced the moments through his pack's thoughts just the same as they had found the Reagan womens' nearly lifeless bodies. And as night looms outside, the moon disappears for a brief time in which the eclipse embraces the entire sky.

Serenity had loved the moon — perhaps, if she were awake, she would mourn in those few moments. Or maybe she realizes, even in this unconscious state, that the moon's retreat is because it can't stand to watch for another moment longer.

"You should go home and get some rest," Laythe tells his mother, his voice dry and devoid of emotion. These hours of pressure had broken him, too. "Today has been a lot for everyone, but you need sleep the most of all. Embry and Quil have agreed to stay the night, just to make sure that . . . nothing else happens." He desperately pleads, as he stares into her eyes, that she not argue. If she does, the two of them might fall apart at the seams.

She intakes a deep, shaky breath, her lips quivering as she allows a nod. "If I leave, promise me that you will relax for the night. Stay hydrated, eat, and don't stay up all night. And please, for the love of the moon above, call me if she wakes up." Marina's eyes settle on Paul when she finishes, her palms sweating as she wipes them against her changed attire. Before their visit to the hospital, she had discarded the tattered outfit that was stained crimson and wielded reminders of their encounter with Victoria. Now, as if nothing had happened, her blouse and slacks are untouched, clean, and bear no sign of distress.

But the composure of her clothing will never hide the lack thereof in her mind.

"You will be the first to know," Paul assures her, his eyes unwavering from his girlfriend. Maybe if his attention is solely focused on Serenity, he will notice the premature signs of her waking: the slightest movement of a finger, a twitch in her nose, anything to prove that she's alive. Now, a practical corpse in a sterile room, upon an uncomfortable bed wrapped in chunky blankets and liquid-filled tubes, all signs of life have abandoned her. "Stay safe, Marina."

Laythe embraces his mother, his body shaking as he imagines the earlier hours. "The guys are waiting in the truck," he murmurs in her ear, hand placed on her hair with closed eyes. "Don't be sad, Mom. She will wake up, and we can take her home. This is just like before, I swear it."

"I wouldn't be able to live with myself if we lost her," she admits, her tears creating dark splotches on his cotton shirt.

"Don't think that way," he pulls back, wiping her tears away with his thumb. "Never think that way. There are better things waiting for us, for her, and I can feel it. Call it insight."

Though her son shrugs, she can't help but smile as he quotes his father. For a moment, Marina watched as her son's body was replaced by her husband's — or perhaps she was only hallucinating. "You're right." She places a lasting kiss on his cheek, her hands clasping his in an unspoken promise, "I will see you soon. I love you more than life, Laythe."

"I love you more than that," he chuckles as her eyes dry, clearing the previous emotions. "Now get out of here before I tell the doctor to call security."

Though the joke is lighthearted, the room is still and cramped with silence. No one dares to laugh as Marina Reagan exits the room, stuffing her hands in her pockets to hide the way that they tremble. The space seems more lonely, less lively. The walls are devoid of color, draining the boys of their feelings and energy. It steals the color from Serenity's body, giving her the palest tint that either of them would ever find on a living being.

Laythe takes a seat on the opposite side of the bed, removing his jacket and settling as he stares at Paul with soft eyes.

"If you're going to ask me to leave next, don't bother," Paul's voice is stripped of sharpness, revealing the pain that scratches at his heart. "I'm not going anywhere until she's better. Until she's back home . . . and maybe I'll stay there, too." He swallows as if something is caught within his throat. "When you find your imprint, everything changes. There's nowhere I'd rather be," he grits his teeth, "but to think that I just left her while I fought someone else's battles . . . it's the biggest mistake I've ever made. I never should have left. But I can't now — I won't leave her again."

"I would never ask that of you," Laythe shakes his head, leaning forward to take his cousin's hand within his own. "But we are all responsible for what happened, so don't you dare try to take the blame on your own."

Paul Lahote wishes, as he glances up to Laythe with the hint of a smile tugging on his cracked lips, that he could feel less guilty for what happened in the woods — but this is the second time that Serenity had fallen into harm's way after he found her.

So as he looks back to her silhouette, the smile fades to nothing, and his body hurts. Perhaps the moon, contrary to his previous beliefs, had made a mistake when combining their fates.

And now, as the star emerges from the obscurity of the eclipse, she stares down at the couple in regret — angry, he assumes, because Paul Lahote had managed to break the very person he promised to protect.

The moon sought a solution to the mistake, and perhaps now she has found it.

❝ hey y'all! be sure to check out my
new edward cullen fic that was published
as my halloween gift to you guys :) i
also have one for quil ateara, in case
you didn't know that already! ❞